(This is my entry for Anne-Marie's "Worst Christmas Present Ever" Contest.)
My worst Christmas present ever was a nose hair trimmer. A travel-sized, battery-operated nose hair trimmer.
Given to me, by my jackbutt of an older brother, my first Christmas back from college. I was 18 and properly mortified, being still too young and too insecure and waaaay too single to have a sense of humor about a freaking nose hair trimmer. Nose hair! He was implying that I had nose hair! If they found out about this on campus I would never get a date again! And then I would be single for the rest of my life! And it would all be his fault!
Would it have killed him to have sprung for a gift certificate to The Wall or something? GOD.
Of course, everyone else in my family thought it was HILARIOUS and my mom made me hold it up for a photo.
(Look at how I'm holding the box backwards. Totally on purpose, because now NO ONE WILL EVER KNOW.)
(And I may be smiling for the camera but if you look deep into my eyes, you can see the rumbling surpressed bershon.)
My brother thought he was starting some kind of great gag gift tradition, assuming I'd re-gift the trimmer to him the next year.
I didn't want to give him the satisfaction, so I kept it. I used it on my eyebrows whenever I didn't have time to tweeze them. It did a pretty good job, actually.
I'd forgotten all about Trimmergate and the winter of my massive discontent until very recently, when I was unpacking a box of bathroom-related items:
It still works. That is one quality gift, people.
(Check out A Mama's Rant for full contest details and how to enter, or to read about other people's adventures in gift-giving gone bad.)